Dying To Live
Book One In The Zombie Overload Series
C.M. Wright
Copyright © 2012 C.M. Wright
All Rights Reserved
Cover copyright © 2012 by Trisha Wilko
Cover Model Trisha Wilko
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The authors have taken great liberties with locales including the creation of fictional towns. Some large city and their names, street, highway, and interstate names are true and as close to accurate, as possible. Any mistakes are entirely the fault of the author.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. The author greatly appreciates you for taking the time to read their work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends or blog readers about the Zombie Overload Series, to help spread the word. Thank you for the support.
Send an email directly to the author at [email protected]
Dedicated to my wonderful husband and my two awesome sons.
Thanks for the encouragement....and “helpful” criticism!
Chapter 1
If we weren't watching the local 5 o'clock news, we never would have known the "virus", that was reported just last night as 'contained' and 'no reason for alarm', was this serious or so very deadly, until it was too late. No one ever said the infected were going around eating people! Maybe I'm wrong, but that might be some important information. Just sayin'!
We watch the images on the screen. An elderly man tearing into the flesh of an athletic younger man. A younger woman in a college sweatshirt covered in the blood of a well-known college professor. Part of his stomach in her hands and mouth. And the kids! We watch as one little blond-haired girl, maybe five years old, chomps down on the meaty thigh of a police officer. We see two boys, both had to be under ten, chasing a small group of adults in the background.
The local female reporter's voice comes on and the camera swings toward her. Her normally perfect hair and makeup are a mess and her usually smooth voice is uncontrolled and shaky. You can see the mic in her hand jerking around as her entire body shakes with fear.
Behind her, the scenes of death continue. The reporter tells us that the 'infected' are no longer contained and the entire city, at least, is in danger. She informs whoever is watching that the cemeteries have been emptied of all corpses. She tells us that no one is taking responsibility for the removal of the corpses. (Obviously, she has never watched the George Romero movies which would explain to her exactly what happened to those corpses!)
Right before our eyes, a man in a business suit stumbles up behind her. The camera jerks as the cameraman screams a warning at her. But it's too late. The man's hand wraps around her slender throat, pulls her back against him, and opens his mouth. She fights, but he's much stronger. He brings his wide mouth down and tears off her entire right cheek. The camera slams to the ground, and before the station can end the broadcast, we see her body fall to the ground. Her dead eyes stare into the lens of the camera one last time.
Chapter 2
My husband, Will, and I sit in our recliners, speechless. I feel a chill sweep through my entire body. Numbness. Disbelief. I look over at my husband hoping I'm having a crazy hallucination...or something. But I see his body rigid, his hands clenched into tight fists, and probably the same expression I have on my own face, and I know we see the same thing. Crap.
Then finally, our minds start working again. Questions first. What is this? Is it really what we think it is? We watch movies, TV shows, read all the books. What do we do??? Then, action.
I fly into our older son's room were he's playing on his game console, all lounged back on his bed, headset on, SINGING to his friends online. (He's weird. But he's ours.) He finally realizes I'm in his room yelling at him. He yanks off his headset, face turning red knowing I heard him singing, and I can tell I'm in for a chewing for not knocking first, though how he would have heard me if I had, I have no idea.
I see I am about to get the teenage attitude thrown at me but stop it with, "Get your butt in the living room, NOW!" Nothing will scare a kid more than to think they are in big trouble. I know he is probably freaking out not knowing what it is he did but I have more important things to worry about.
Going into the dining room where our youngest is on the computer playing his game, also with headset on, I order him into the living room, as well. I order them to sit on the sofa and stay there. Will runs up the few stairs that leads down to the laundry room and the shed, his arms loaded with boards, a hammer, and a coffee can full of nails. I run into the kitchen and grab my hammer from the junk drawer, grab a board that he has thrown on the floor, and proceed to board up the window next to the one he is working on in the living room.
Finishing those two, we stop and stare at the huge bay window in the dining room. That could be a problem. Some of the panes are already cracked (thanks to high winds and our patio umbrella) and we never had the money to replace them. It's double-paned so we weren't worried about it. Not that double-paned windows really matter now. Not like you really care about all this rambling about our double-paned windows either, but, forgive me while I have a freaking out moment, k?
"What are we going to do with that?" I ask Will.
"Well, board it, I guess. And then maybe push your desk against it. That damn thing is heavy. I'm hoping they can't climb. We have the fence out back that may hold them off for a while. But even that won't hold a lot of them if they decide they want in."
"Alright. Can you handle that? I have an idea I’m going to work on." Of course, I can't tell him what that idea is or he will stop me. I tell our boys, again, to stay on the sofa, I run down the stairs. Then I run back up the stairs and grab my keys (always forget those damn things!) and run back down the stairs. I open the door to the shed. It's actually our main front door. In the shed is our door that leads outside. It's all glass but can be switched to a screen when the weather is right. Great zombie deterrent. NOT!
I stand to the side of the glass door and look for any movement outside. It's just starting to get dark and that brings a jolt with the realization that I used to love the dark but, now, shit could get bad! Not seeing any movement but the tree limbs and leaves, I slowly open the door. I listen. Nothing close but same tree limbs and leaves. An occasional car in the distance. Maybe some far-off sirens. But nothing close.
Opening the door all the way, I force myself to take that first step. Another. Then another. FLASH!
Chapter 3
My heart stops. My breathing stops. Damn near piss myself. STUPID SENSOR LIGHT! I almost run back inside but force myself to make a run to my van only about ten feet from where I am currently cowering in fear...over a stupid light!
This is where I should tell you a few things about myself, considering one of those things is my ability to find something scary in just about everything, such as the stupid light. My name is Canada. Yep. You read that right. My mom had wanted to name me something similar to that but this is what the hospital or whoever typed up my Birth Certificate decided to name me. Mom decided it wasn't worth the trouble to have it changed so....Canada. I'm 36 years old and homeschool my boys. Fun times. (That's said with only a small amount of sarcasm.) I am bipolar to the extreme when not medicated (this whole zombie thing may screw up the medication issue. God, protect my family from me.) I swear like a trucker and am a Sunday School teacher. (Yeah.
Not real sure what they were thinking putting me in that position, either!) I don't have a lot of close friends, (by my own choice, I'll have you know!) but the ones I do have are very special to me and I keep for life.
I married my wonderful Will five years ago. We decided there is only one way out of our marriage, and I haven't killed him yet. I'm pleasantly plump, which translates to, my ass is FAT! Now, not falling-over-my-own-blubber fat, just have some extra insulation. I have green eyes and my hair color is whatever it says on the box. I think it's 'Honey Roasted Chestnuts', or some shit like that, at the moment. I have a mom and a dad (duh!) and a dad. One baby sister, three baby brothers, and three sister-in-laws (funny how that worked out, huh?) My sister has a guy, but not real sure what the relationship title is at this point; boyfriend, fiance, husband, roommate, prisoner. Anyway. So I think that's enough about me for now. I told you it was just a few things. Hehehe! (Back to what's happening now)
I reach the van, grab the handle, and pull. Nothing happens! Then I realize I forgot to unlock the doors. Pushing the button on the key fob, the doors unlock. I throw myself inside and slam the door, locking it again. I look around and still see nothing that shouldn't be there. I put the van in reverse and back up until I have enough room to make a wide turn and then I position the van at an angle in front of the door to the house. After a few adjustments, I get the vehicle so the front of the van is against the laundry room's outer wall and the back is touching the corner of the shed. No room for anything to get through. Now, if we have to leave, we can safely exit the glass door, open the doors on the van, and get inside. In theory, anyway.
Our van has sliding doors on both sides. And way too many windows. They are strong but how strong are these zombies? I'd rather not find out the hard way, thank you very much! As I sit here thinking about how to protect the exposed side of the vehicle, my eyes never stop watching for any movement that isn’t normal. We live in a rural area outside the city of Stephan, Illinois and have few neighbors, so we don’t get a lot of people just walking by. So anyone who is out walking around, probably isn't someone I want to meet.
"I got it!" I startle a bit at the volume of my own words bursting out. I recover quickly, not knowing how much time we have. I grab my keys, shut and lock the doors, then run to Will's old Dodge Dakota truck. He doesn’t lock his doors and, for once, I'm thankful for that. I jump in, find his key on my keyring, and fire it up. Of course, THAT causes the hubby to come running out, almost face-planting into the side of the van. His truck is his baby. I tease him he loves that truck more than me. He denies. He lies.
I see him gesturing wildly and his mouth moving a mile-a-minute but I'm good at ignoring him when I have to. Same with my boys. Hey, I'm the only female in a house of males. Don't judge me!
I pull the truck up against the outside of the van, taking out both our mirrors. I see Will cringe as he hears the shriek of metal and the loud pops as the pieces are torn from the vehicles. Sorry, Honey, but this isn’t the time for holding on to material objects. He's really going to shit bricks when I inform him the truck stays and we all leave in the van. I smile.
I jump out of the truck, lock, and shut his doors. Yes, I remembered my keys. Whoa! Wait. Back up. How the hell am I supposed to get back IN the house? Crap! Crap! Crap! Ok, so maybe I didn’t think this through all the way. I'm damn sure not going to go all the way around our acre back yard to get to the fence's gate clear on the back part of the fence. Not no way. Not no how. Oh, wait, I got it! I can jump in the bed of his truck, open the side door of the van and climb through. Simple. Well, it would be if I were at all athletic and able to just hop on up there but, nope, have to run to the back, climb up on the back bumper, over the tailgate, can't get the damn van door open! Oh, yeah. Unlock it first, Dummy! Then I step right on out of the truck and onto the nice cushioned seat of the van.......and come face to face with a very pissed off hubby.
"Look, I’m sorry, but I had to get the truck as close as possible so I could protect the van." I'm smart enough to fake shame and meekness for this situation.
"I don’t give one shit about that truck." (Ha ha! Yeah, right!) "What the hell were you doing outside? One of those things could have gotten you! Damn it! You've GOT to be more careful and don't take stupid chances like that. I could have done it or at least been here to make sure you were safe. The boys and I can't frikken lose you!"
OK. I admit that I'm really ashamed now. He made sense. I should have had him watching out for those things. Looking up into his red, rage-filled face, I know it's best to just say, "I'm sorry and you're right", hang my head and look totally pathetic. So I do. He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. Kissing the top of my head, he presses me tight to him, and in this moment, I remember again just how much I love this man. And also, how I would have felt if he did what I just did. I don’t want him anywhere near those things or where they could easily get to him, either. I also don’t want him taking chances but I already know he has a "hero" mentality. I’ll have my work cut out for me just keeping him safe. This is not going to be easy.
We close and lock the van and head inside to do what we can to be as prepared as possible. Walking up the stairs, I see our boys still on the sofa, looking at us with twin expressions of fear and worry. How do I explain this to them? I’m sure any way I do it I will be breaking all the experts rules on being a good parent. Screw it. Not like I ever paid attention to their rules before, anyway.
I sit on my recliner and Will continues boarding up windows. I take a minute just to look at our boys. Our oldest, Bo, with his blond hair and bright blue eyes, is 14 years old. He has a smile that just lights up the room. He's almost as tall as me and that kinda freaks me out.
Our youngest, Ashton, is 11 years old and has brown hair and gorgeous big brown eyes. He's our computer geek. Good luck trying to get him off the PC but at least you always know where he is! He 's always smiling and happy.
Then it hits me. HOLY SHIT! What if I lose them? What if those damn things get one or both of them? My breathing turns fast and shallow. I feel dizzy. My heart is pounding so hard and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see it burst out and plop on the floor in front of me.
Will walks in the room just as I'm seeing spots shooting around the house. He grabs the back of my neck and shoves my head down. Hard. That brought me out of it. Angrily, I shove at his legs which is the only part of him I can get to (he is so lucky I can't get my fist up just a bit higher!) and jerk my head back up where it belongs....on my damn shoulders. I know I have fire in my eyes. He steps back until he is no longer within my arms reach.
"Jesus Christ! You trying to break my frikken neck?" I shout at him.
"I’m sorry, Honey. I was just trying to help." He says, faking shame and meekness. Damn. I taught him well.
"Trying to kill me, more like!" He walks away but I see his shit-eating grin. Jerk! I turn my attention back to the sofa. "Ok, so this is what's going on..." I'm interrupted by Bo who asks, "Is this the Zombie Apocalypse?" and from Ashton, "Are there zombies outside?"
I just sit and stare at them. Should I be surprised? Not really. I mean, they play zombie mode on their games. They watch the movies and TV shows. They are extremely intelligent, after all, I homeschool them. Wink, wink!
"Well, from what Dad and I saw on the news, I think it's safe to say we can call them zombies. No, they aren't outside, yet. But I'm sure they will be soon enough. So we really need you two to listen, and do, everything we tell you, the instant we tell you. Don’t try to be zombie slayers like you are in your games. This is real and there's no coming back after your dead." I am totally being serious. And even though the boys are visibly scared, they still manage to laugh at me. Confused, I ask them what the hell is so funny?
"Actually, Mom, I think you CAN come back after your dead. That's kinda what a zombie does." Bo. My smart ass.
I roll my eyes and jump to my feet. "Alright. Enough chit chat and making fun of your mom. We've got work to do."
&nb
sp; "Are we going to Grandma and Grandpa's?" asks Ashton.
I freeze mid-turn and stare wide-eyed at the wall. OH. MY. GOD! Why didn't I think of them first and long before now? My parents live in a small village about 15 minutes to the west of us. Stephan is to the east of us. My mom works in Stephan but should have been home for a few hours now. My dad (step-dad technically, but don’t call him that to my face!) also works in Stephan and is in Stephan right now! Again, another heart-stopping moment.
I grab my cell and frantically type in 'mom'. As I push the call button, I move to the living room window and peer through the small hole that Will has made at each window. Not seeing anything, I turn back to the room as my mom answers.
"Mom. Are you OK?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"
"Didn't you watch the news tonight? Did you see anything going on in Stephan while you were there?" I can't keep the fear out of my voice even though I'm trying.
"No, I didn’t watch the news. They did have some streets blocked off and a bunch of cops everywhere, but I don't know why. What did the news say?" My mom must be in the tub. I can hear water gushing in the background.
"Well, there are people, ummm, well, DEAD people, eating live people. And the news said the police can't contain or control them and that the dead were spreading out over the city. Everyone should stay inside and not try to go to Stephan." I know the words came out in a rush but saying them made it all seem so unreal and I just knew she didn't believe me. Hell, I don’t believe me!
I hear the water shut off and she tells me she will call me back in a minute. Ok. Maybe she does believe me or, if not, maybe she will find out more information about it herself. Or she could be arranging to have me committed. It could go either way.
I shove the cell phone in my pocket and tell the boys to follow me. We go into the kitchen and I have Bo get boxes out of the closet. We gather all the food that will last without refrigeration and load up the boxes. I get the cooler out and make sure the two bags of ice we keep stocked (I don’t use ice trays) are within quick and easy reach. All the cold items I want to take with us I put on one shelf so no searching or thinking about it. Just grab, toss in cooler, and go. I pull out a box of Ziploc gallon-size baggies and start filling them up with silverware, cooking utensils and anything else we might need from the kitchen. I take a baggie to the bathroom and put all our toothbrushes and toothpaste in. In a grocery bag I place our deodorants, shaving items, etc. I grab a package of toilet paper (priorities are different for everyone) and move it all near the stairs.
Dying To Live & Fighting To Live-Book One and Book Two (Zombie Overload Series) Page 1
